


Hold Onto Western Fools

by lealila



Series: stand on broken glass [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, Platonic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lealila/pseuds/lealila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The four times Obi-Wan didn't fall in love, and the one time he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Onto Western Fools

_ Hold Onto Western Fools (and don’t look down) _

_the four times obi-wan didn’t fall in love, and the one time he did._

** the four times he didn’t **

**i.**

The girl they’re supposed to protect—a princess, with a name too complicated for humans to pronounce correctly—even in Basic—so they call her nothing but titles: _princess_ and _ma’am_ and _miss_ —takes too much of a liking for Obi-Wan; at least, in the opinion of Master Qui-Gon. She always insists on time alone with him, just to talk, since only he, Qui-Gon, and the royal family—all over thirty years of age—are allowed to go near her. Qui-Gon and her father acquiesce (the former rather reluctantly), and so Obi-Wan spends most of his evenings with the girl, just talking. She’s curious about his life as a Jedi, and he politely asks about her life as a royal in turn.

Three days pass, and then she asks for him to call her Zina.

“My servant, Thala, is human,” she explains. “And a good friend, just like you.”

He simply smiles, and asks if she’d like to call him Obi-Wan, instead of Padawan Kenobi.

“After all, _Padawan Kenobi_ is a bit of a mouthful, no?”

Before he leaves that night, she kisses him on the cheek. He _swears_ she’s laughing as he—not _flees_ , but quickly _excuses_ himself—goes back to the bedchamber he shares with his master.

Afterwards, his and Zina’s conversations become slightly more personal; they talk of favorite foods, and stories of their childhood. He tells her about Garen and Reeft and Bant and Siri while she tells him of Thala and Jikso, a childhood friend. He tells her about cuisine on Ulta IV and Bandomeer and other planets he’s been to in the last two years while she admits she’s never eaten much off world food, but she absolutely _loves_ bantha steak. Qui-Gon jokingly—and by jokingly, Obi-Wan means: _not interested at all but i’m going to act like i actually care and make a joke out of it_ —asks what they talk about that keeps him away an hour longer than necessary; Obi-Wan tells him that he just lost track of time. An obvious askew of the question at hand—one that Qui-Gon notices and raises questioning eyebrows to—but his master trusts him, and knows that Obi-Wan holds no dangerous feelings to Zina, thus lets the avoidance slide.

Two weeks pass before he and Qui-Gon are recalled to Coruscant for some issue or other: something about an attack on the Temple, and no, no one was injured but we need your expertise so could you possibly hurry up and get your asses over here?

Okay. Obi-Wan’s more than certain that they didn’t say anything of the sort; but it was late at night—or early in the morning, if one wishes to be particular—and he was groggy and half asleep and rather grumpy that the Council couldn’t wait till morning to plead their distress.

Either way, they leave just hours later, early in the morning. Zina’s father asks if more protection will be provided, and Qui-Gon promises to bring up the issue to the Council when they arrive, but warns His Majesty that new Jedi will probably not be sent; after two weeks and no more threats nor actions made, it is doubtful that Zina is in a high risk position. His Majesty understands this, and thanks Master Jinn for his time anyways.

When standing at the landing platform, while the elders are speaking, Zina grasps his hand and asks if he shall stay.

It hits Obi-Wan, then, that Zina must feel really lonely. To ask the boy who has repeatedly talked and yearned and loves his life as a Jedi, to ask for him to give it up all on a whim, she must be really desperate for some company of any kind.

(Absently, he wonders if she made up Thala or Jikso.)

He apologizes with all the honesty he has, looks her in the eyes, and tells her no, that he will not stay. Zina doesn’t look overly surprised, and only a little disheartened—after all, they did (and still do) consider each other really good friends—but simply kisses him on the cheek for the last time, watching him disappear from her life, leaving her to live her lonely life as a princess, and maybe, as a god.

**ii.**

Obi-Wan Kenobi does not love Satine Kryze.

He tries, he thinks. They both try, in a small way, in some way. It’s from sleeping in close quarters and starving and surviving together. Not really because they like each other.

Well, they _do_ like each other, but only as friends, despite their constant bickering.

_(they don’t believe him now, and twenty years later, they won’t believe him then, either.)_

But even young Jedi and duchesses wonder what could be. Nothing _serious_ ever happens—they are either too dignified or too frightened for that—but moments do happen.

When Qui-Gon isn’t looking—when he’s not even near the same vicinity—sometimes, one of them will kiss the other’s cheek in thanks or reassurance. When Obi-Wan needs to bring her to a secure location awfully quick, he’ll grab her hand, and she will blush, and tighten her grip and he will tighten his. When they are alone, they tell each other secrets that have rarely seen the light of day, and will probably never be heard again. When they are not alone, they will share secret glances that Obi-Wan imagines means something more. When they forget themselves, Obi-Wan sees what could be and Satine knows what will never be.

(In her heart of hearts, Satine knows that she could never have been a Jedi.)

(In his heart of hearts, Obi-Wan knows that he could never have been a duke.)

(The future is always in motion, but sometimes, events are already set in stone no matter what anyone may think.)

They save her planet, but they—but Obi-Wan can’t seem to save her heart. Some part of it does not come back to Mandalore.

It is quite possible that part of his heart is left behind, too.

Master Qui-Gon doesn’t hide his surprise very well when Obi-Wan clambers forlornly and eagerly onto their ship back home, not once looking back.

Obi-Wan doesn’t hide his sorrow very well, either: he’s a sobbing mess by the time the ship has reached the atmosphere.

Qui-Gon holds him until he falls asleep.

(All he can think of, before he loses himself, is that if he really loved her, he would have stayed; if she really loved him, she would have asked.)

**iii.**

Master Qui-Gon simply is Master Qui-Gon. They are not father and son.

But there are times when they slip: when Qui-Gon will hold him as Obi-Wan’s childhood slips away, or when sickness takes hold; when they joke about past missions or personality traits; when duty does not necessarily come first.

But they are Jedi (Qui-Gon teaches him this over and over again) and a Jedi shall not form attachments.

_(Not now._

_Not ever.)_

Doesn’t mean they can’t skim the line between _attachment_ and _distance_. Obi-Wan wants to please Qui-Gon so much sometimes, that he will forget his duty to the Jedi Order, and place his duty to Master Jinn first. Qui-Gon has—more than once—risked life and limb and even mission to save his wayward apprentice. Obi-Wan, of course, has done the same.

(So many times, Jedi have whispered that Padawan Kenobi _is just like him. two mavericks in the temple; how will we survive?_

(Only mostly joking.)

Qui-Gon thinks they are more than wrong: they are right. His padawan may be more concerned with the Unifying Force, and often gives his solid reminder that, sometimes, they have a duty to complete before they can look after each other. But Obi-Wan will follow him to the end of the galaxy if he should only ask. Obi-Wan mirrors his manners more often than not. Obi-Wan mirrors his actions on attachment better than himself.)

But then Naboo comes and Obi-Wan doesn’t know _what_ to think. He’s dealt with his master’s pathetic life forms before, but this boy is different. Obi-Wan likes him, and all—he’s a nice kid; polite and eager to please—but Qui-Gon seems to…not have pushed him aside, but put some boy before him.

A selfish thought, Obi-Wan knows, but as he is holding his dying master ( _father, father)_ , Obi-Wan wonders why Qui-Gon can’t even mention an ounce of all the time they spent together.

Or did their twelve years actually mean nothing at all?

**iv.**

Siri Tachi drives him up the wall. She knows this, which is precisely why she keeps driving Obi-Wan up it.

“Relax, Kenobi,” she tells him, laughing. “Learn to loosen up.”

“I _am_ loosened up,” he claims—a little haughtily, too—and crosses his arms indignantly. “We just don’t share the same ideas on what ‘fun’ is.”

She waggles her eyebrows playfully. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

Obi-Wan leaves her laughing at his wounded heart in the hallway, and goes to—

Well, he goes somewhere.

But, Obi-Wan refuses to admit and yet still understands anyways, he does notice that there is a time before Siri Tachi entered his life, and a time after. In the time before, he was more than slightly haughty and aloof. He spent his free time holed up in the Archives or in the dojo, hardly ever relaxing. In the time after, he made more witty jokes and wasn’t so easily offended. He mingled with his peers more and he relaxed. His friends note his difference as well, but quietly, subtly: a Jedi doesn’t go prying into other’s business, after all.

They start to expand their meeting spots beyond the dojo and the Council Chamber. They will spend time after lectures and classes simply walking and talking in the Jedi Halls or they’ll head exclusively to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, a spot that Obi-Wan and Siri love the most. They’ll make a point to sit together at meal times. They tell each other secrets and dreams and emotions that they are too scared to share with anyone else, even their masters and their mutual friends. And they don’t need to be gentle all the time; there’s no way in hell they would use rough language in front of others, nor would get away with a light—or rough—shove or hit. Obi-Wan and Siri are best friends and worst enemies and they can’t spend enough time with one another.

Obi-Wan is nineteen, on the brink of twenty, when he and Master Qui-Gon are paired up with Siri and Master Gallia once more. A boy—Tal-something-or-other—has vital information on a mass assassination attempt a few bounty hunters are planning. Obi-Wan is eager to leave—he’s been stuck at the Temple for two weeks, now, and has been getting restless.

But as the mission goes on, something goes wrong. The padawans and Tally are separated from their masters, and have to survive on their own—which wouldn’t normally be a problem, but Tally is no Jedi and he and Siri keep fighting on what they have to do: stay or fight.

Siri makes the final decision, as she is wont to do.

The initial escape goes perfectly fine. But in the middle of hyperspace, the engines fail and no one knows what to do.

Everything passes in a blur, but he clearly remembers holding Siri deep into the night, not saying a word, but still confessing what lies in his heart.

(This memory stays with him to the very end.)

Obi-Wan doesn’t really come-to until he and Siri both arrive back at the Temple, waiting for their masters. Tally is at the Senate, giving his testimony. The padawans are alone, and they don’t quite know what to do. They gravitate to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and there—there, the Force will wait for them to decide their future. There, Master Qui-Gon and Master Gallia are already waiting for them.

“Masters,” they murmur, bowing humbly, contritely.

“Master Yoda,” Adi Gallia declares, “is waiting for you.”

Obi-Wan and Siri get the lecture and sympathy and they know, in their heart of hearts, that this is simply a show, another lesson hidden under everyday objects. As Master Yoda hobbles off, Obi-Wan and Siri know what they must do. They both want to be Jedi so badly, and that means putting duty first.

“Promise me,” Siri demands, “that you won’t look back. Promise me that—that we won’t interact any more than we need to.”

As he is wont to do, Obi-Wan bows to her demands; “As you wish.” He reaches out to reassure her—for both their sakes—but she slithers away, stomping her foot in anger and frustration and desperation.

“ _No_! This starts _now_.”

His heart crushes, but he nods, not trusting himself to speak. For the first—but not the last—time, Siri Tachi slithers out of his sight turning her back to him, not once looking back; because Siri asked him to—demanded him to—Obi-Wan does the same.

(The worst part is when they both realize that they did not just lose someone they loved, but their best friend as well.)

** and the one time he did **

**i.**

On the banks of Mustafar, Obi-Wan Kenobi realizes he’s in love with his former padawan—now, former Jedi and current Sith Lord. Not romantically, but platonically, and he wonders why _now_ , of all times, he comes to this realization.

(Jedi don’t fall in love. They’re not supposed to.)

His lightsaber is warm in his hands—burning, even, and he has to check to make sure it—or his hand—isn’t on fire.

Anakin screams raw and hoarse as Mustafar takes his skin apart, all the way down to the bones. Obi-Wan closes his eyes, stomach churning, and pretends that it’s laughter and they’re actually in the dojo, trading blows and barbs.

( _“Old man, are you prepared to meet your doom?”_

_“Padawan, your barbs are as bad as your form. Do at least try to include some originality in both.”_

_“Thought there was no try, Master.”_

_“For you, there is_ only _try.”_ )

He opens his eyes, and catches Anakin’s gaze.

Something snaps in his red eyes—it takes Obi-Wan a moment to realize it’s fury.

This is also when something—control—snaps in Obi-Wan, and he’s shouting down, furious that Anakin is angry at _him_ , as if _he_ was the one who desecrated the Temple, who murdered hundreds of his family, who betrayed his mentor his father his _brother_ —

“You were my _brother_ , Anakin.” His voice breaks, and his grip tightens on his lightsaber. He realizes—belatedly—that he’s crying. (He has never done that, before.) “I loved you.”

 _Loves_ , he thinks, furious at himself. _I love you, even though I shouldn’t_.

Anakin snarls as he keeps struggling to climb the bank. “ _I hate you_.”

(It will take Obi-Wan decades to realize that Anakin wasn’t shouting that out of loathing—not truly. Anakin will confess, after his death, that he was mad that Obi-Wan said he loved him and wouldn’t come and save him.

“Also,” he adds after a long silence, “because I didn’t know how to say it back.”)

Obi-Wan spends a long moment starring down at Anakin before he turns and grabs Anakin’s lightsaber, and runs back to Padmé and the baby, because he realizes that there’s one last thing he can do, for Anakin.

He can save the people Anakin loved.

(Obi-Wan reaches out and places a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. Smiling softly, he says, “That’s okay. I didn’t know how to say it earlier, when it mattered.”

Anakin mirrors Obi-Wan with his left hand. “No, it did matter then. Love always matters, Obi-Wan. But it’s the person who you love that defines it, not the timing.”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose it does.” Slowly, Obi-Wan smiles, and for the first time in years, feels truly happy.)


End file.
